


Freedom

by The13thBlackCat



Series: Songbird [4]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotions, M/M, Porn, Resolved Romantic Tension, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly, the idea of freedom wasn't so frightening anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freedom

   Fenris was brooding again, and not particularly happy with himself for it. He always claimed he wasn't "broody", and yet here he was, proving everyone right.

   He wasn't certain what to do, now. All of the life he could remember had been taken up with being a slave or trying to hold on to his new freedom. Now it wasn't an issue--Danarius was dead and gone, and Fenris was as free he would ever be.

   It was an unexpectedly terrifying thought.

   He'd been certain this was what he always wanted, and in many ways it still was. But a small part of himself already missed the comforting certainty of his life before; he'd known what to do then: lay low, do what he could to get by, eventually move on, all the while evading other Tevinters. Now none of that was an issue anymore, and it left a void in his life.

   He supposed he had the option to do what he wished now, but he hadn't really thought about what that was. His life had been taken up with the here and now, not the future. It was a great deal for him to try and absorb--and to complicate things, Aveline had started pressuring him to move on. She wasn't going to be able to deflect questions about him forever, she said. Sooner or later the guard-captain wouldn't be able to bend the rules any further.

   Fenris wasn't even certain what to do about that. He had nowhere else in Kirkwall to go, and while he normally wouldn't have minded leaving, he had somehow become...attached to the city. It was, in many ways, a terrible city, and Fenris hated a lot of things about it, but...

   But he couldn't really make himself want to leave.

   So he chose to stare out his window and brood instead. It was as good an option as anything, really. He didn't have much else to do.

   His ears flicked as he heard the front door open. He quietly wondered who was coming to see him; he didn't get many visitors. After a moment, though, he recognized the soft tread coming up the stairs, and turned slightly to greet his guest.

   "Hawke."

   Sparrow smiled a little, and Fenris thought he looked a little...relieved, almost. Had he been worrying about him? Fenris hadn't left the mansion for a few days, true, but that was hardly especially unusual of him...

   "Fenris." The greeting was soft with a familiarity that improved Fenris' mood somewhat. He suspected Sparrow had started answering him like that in an attempt to break him from greeting Sparrow with his name. It hadn't worked.

   Sparrow let out a little breath. "Thought I'd come check on you. You've been holed up in here longer than usual." He ruffled his hair, at ease, and Fenris was suprised to realize he had been tense when he'd entered the room.

   "Worrying about me, Hawke?" Fenris turned back to the window, his lips quirking into a little smile despite himself.

   "...well really Selene talked me into stopping by." Fenris' ears twitched. Sparrow was lying. Usually he was a good liar, but Fenris could tell in how soft his voice was. Something had been bothering him; that was why he'd come, not because of his sister's urging. He didn't pry, though.

   "Hawke, can I ask you something?"

   "Always."

   "Danarius is dead." Fenris said it without even really realizing it, and somehow saying it made it more _real_. He wasn't certain how he felt about that. "He's dead, and I am free. But...what am I supposed to do with this freedom, now that I have it?"

   He heard Sparrow sit down by the fireplace. He didn't answer for a moment, then finally said, "Whatever you want, I suppose."

_Whatever I want..._

   Fenris closed his eyes.

_What is that?_

   He turned. Sparrow wasn't looking at him, instead staring into the flames. His expression was unusually somber, and it startled Fenris a little. The Hawkes were rarely serious--especially Sparrow.

   Fenris just watched him, trying to get a feel for what was bothering his friend. Sparrow shifted his weight a little, sitting back slightly. Fenris thought, absent-mindedly, that he was still beautiful, even with such a disturbed expression.

   He stifled the thought almost immediately--or started to. A moment later, he wondered why he did. He'd spent three years actively fighting his attraction to Sparrow, but _why?_ The answer he gave himself was that Sparrow did things to him that...alarmed him. Sparrow had awoken bits of his hidden memory, something Fenris had never expected to happen. And Sparrow had given him something to care for besides himself, because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Sparrow was...fascinating. Fenris had never been so interested in another person--never expected to. He was the best thing that had ever happened to Fenris, and yet he had caused the elf an unbelievable amount of pain. He was often maddening, and Fenris couldn't stay away from him no matter how he tried. He was _everything._

_...what do I want...?_

   Fenris looked away, swallowing. Without really thinking about it, he heard himself say softly, "Hawke, we...never talked about what happened three years ago..."

   Fenris heard Sparrow start more than he saw it, and he wondered just what in the Maker's name he was doing. They'd both silently agreed never to discuss that.

   "...you didn't want to talk about it." Sparrow's voice was soft again, and very careful. He wasn't lying, but his tone was similar--hiding something. Fenris wondered what, and thought he knew.

   He'd seen how Sparrow had looked at him once. He wasn't stupid. Sparrow had never begged him to stay, not with words, but he hadn't had to. His looks had been enough.

   He didn't want to talk about this, because he didn't want to reopen old wounds.

   Fenris swallowed again, took a breath, let it out. He turned back to Sparrow, running a hand through his hair and scraping his nails across his scalp. The mild pain helped him focus a little.

   "Hawke, I..." He exhaled again, forcefully. "I know. I...I was a fool."

   Sparrow looked up, his expression warily puzzled. Fenris didn't meet his eyes, because he thought he might lose his nerve if he did. "I...I had you, and...you...scared me, Hawke. Being around you...just, **_you_**...it was...too much." He let out a breath, frustrated at his inability to articulate what he meant. Sparrow had this _intensity_ about him: he was so _real_ , not perfect but so _beautiful_ it almost _hurt_ to be near him, and Fenris had never been able to resist him, even though that intensity was terrifying and fascinating in its foreignness. He had never cared _so much_ about something in his life as he did about Sparrow, and he could hardly make sense of his own emotions regarding the man most of the time.

   He shook his head, letting out another breath. It didn't matter. He had a point to make. "I should have never left you." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the nervous thrill he felt from admitting it. He had spent too long denying it himself, and now he was telling _Sparrow_. He swallowed. "I should have asked for your forgiveness years ago. If I could go back to that night, I would in an instant, and I'd stay. I'd tell you exactly how I feel."

 _What do I want?_ The thought echoed inside his head, prompting him for an answer.

   He heard Sparrow stand, start to cross the room. His tread was soft, familiar, _comforting._ Fenris had always been able to tell Sparrow from the sound of his footsteps, quiet and deliberate. He realized belatedly that the man was standing in front of him, but didn't look up. His voice soft and hopeful, Sparrow murmured, "Which is?"

 _What do I want?_ Fenris swallowed again, hard.

_A past full of misery and nothing..._

   The elf looked up finally, forcing himself to meet Sparrow's eyes.

_...or a future with him?_

   Fenris' tongue swept across his lips, wetting them. "If there is to be a future for me," he said finally, softly, "it would be only with you, Sparrow, and no one else." His breath shuddered, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. His eyes dropped, unable to hold Sparrow's any longer, and his voice was shaking and so soft he almost didn't hear himself when he next spoke. "Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you."

   Sparrow didn't answer in words, only pulling Fenris to him and kissing him, soft and sweet and forgiving. Fenris sucked in a sharp breath though his nose, his hands going to Sparrow's chest. He felt Sparrow's lips part and without thinking took the invitation to sweep his tongue into the other man's mouth; Sparrow made a quiet noise, eagerly accepting the deepening of the kiss, and Fenris felt himself go weak at the way he tasted and sounded and felt-- _so beautiful he almost **hurt**_ \--so when Sparrow slid his arms around him, Fenris gladly let himself give in to the support he offered, his fingers tangling in the other man's hair. He realized dimly that he was making a quiet sound in his throat; soft and whimpery and desperately _relieved._

_It was almost pitiful, how easily Sparrow's touch could melt him._

   When they finally separated, they were both gasping a little, as much because they'd both spent so very long _wanting_ to do that as because of the arousal the kiss inspired. Fenris swallowed, taking hold of Sparrow's face with shaking hands, and in an instant he realized how right Merrill had been.

   Somehow, in the years since he'd first come to Sparrow's bed, he'd fallen in love. There was simply no other word to describe what this man had done to him.

   The elf swallowed again, hard, then wordlessly pulled Sparrow tight against him, burying his face in his shoulder. And despite how ridiculous it was for him to cling to Sparrow like that, the normally snarky Champion said nothing about it; instead, he just held him, breathing shakily in his ear.

   "Hawke." Fenris wasn't certain how long they stayed like that before he finally spoke. What did time matter, right now? What did anything, but the man holding him? "I..." He looked up, licking his lips nervously. He could still taste Sparrow on them. "Would you..." He exhaled, trying to steady his voice. "Would you maybe...stay with me, tonight?"

   When Sparrow smiled, it seemed a bit giddy to Fenris, and it made the elf flush.

   "If that's what you want."

   "It's what I've always wanted," Fenris answered in a whisper before he could catch himself. He looked down, swallowing again, but Sparrow didn't say anything about it.

   He did let go of Fenris, though, taking a step back. The elf almost whimpered at the loss before Sparrow said, "I should probably go home first, though. Get a few things, warn Selene not to expect me back...otherwise she'll panic, and nobody wants that."

   Fenris smiled a little, nodding his assent. Sparrow hesitated for a moment, then turned finally, leaving Fenris alone in his room.

   The elf fell back against the wall, and couldn't seem to stop himself from grinning no matter how hard he tried.

   Suddenly, the idea of freedom wasn't so frightening anymore.

* * *

   Sparrow left only briefly, to go home and inform his household that he would be out for the night, and to gather a few things. When he returned to Fenris' mansion, things were...awkward. They both knew what had changed, but they both acted like nothing had; they'd spent so long dancing around the subject of their attraction and desires that now it was almost _more_ awkward when they didn't have to. Like they didn't know how to react to one another now.

   They tried to act like they always had when Sparrow had visited before, whiling away the hours in entirely innocent ways and shooting each other secretive, lingering glances that made them both look away and pretend it hadn't happened. Fenris felt...ridiculous, and giddy, and a little light-headed, and thoroughly _insane_. But he didn't know how to stop the act, even if all he could think about was the taste of Sparrow's lips on his own.

   He'd forgotten entirely that Donnic was coming over that night; the guardsman's appearance had been a surprise, simultaneously annoying and a relief. Part of him was glad for something to pay attention to that wasn't Sparrow--and part of him didn't want anyone else there that night _but_ Sparrow.

   But he hadn't let on--too much--about his conflicting feelings. Luckily, Sparrow was friendly enough with the man too, so the unexpected addition to their weekly game of Diamondback didn't affect much--except that Sparrow proved to be quite good at it, and a ruthless cutthroat. That made Fenris giddy for some reason.

   Donnic had known something was different when he finally left; you could tell in the puzzled looks he'd given them both. He didn't say anything about it, but Fenris wondered if he'd mention it to Aveline. He wondered so he didn't have to remember that he was alone with Sparrow again. Alone, with an entire night ahead of them.

   It had been awkwardly quiet for a few moments after Donnic left, the air heavy with something it took Fenris a few minutes to identify.

   The elf swallowed, hard, suddenly once more keenly aware of the way Sparrow's lips had felt against his own, how solid and _real_ the human man was--

_\--especially when he used that solid realness to trap Fenris against a wall--_

   --how amazing he smelled and sounded and _tasted_ \--

   Fenris swallowed again, but didn't try to push away the thoughts that had been lingering in the back of his mind all night, ever since Sparrow had first kissed him. He looked up, his eyes meeting Sparrow's. He had beautiful, fierce eyes, hawk-gold and piercing. Especially now; his gaze was intense, a little dangerous in a way that made Fenris want to squirm, and said all the things he didn't say aloud.

   Fenris didn't know who moved first, only dimly aware of what was happening when their lips met again. Sparrow's kiss was as fierce as his eyes had been, and it was desperate and stole Fenris' breath away so that suddenly the elf couldn't _breathe anymore_ , and when he pulled back Fenris couldn't hear anything but the rush of air between them and his heart pounding in his ears and Sparrow's soft panting.

   And even though Sparrow's kiss stole the air from his lungs and made him gasp like a man drowning, Fenris couldn't be satisfied with just one, and next thing he knew he was kissing him back, his fingers tangling in Sparrow's hair to hold him there until the elf saw fit to let him go. Sparrow pushed him back, but Fenris refused to let him go that easily and that was fine, because Sparrow had only meant to push him back against the wall, trapping Fenris there with his weight and presence. There was no space between them now, only heat and clothing and _need_ and when Fenris broke this kiss _he_ was panting, but Sparrow didn't give him a chance to catch his breath.

   He was dimly aware of Sparrow's hands at his chest, clumsily undoing the fastenings of his coat, and without really being aware of it he found himself doing to same, suddenly _desperate_ to remove the layers of cloth keeping Sparrow from him. It both went quickly and took _far_ too long, and before he could finish undressing the man Sparrow had moved him from the wall, pushing him across the room. Fenris made a harsh, impatient noise, taking his wrist and tugging Sparrow towards his bed.

   Sparrow was all too happy to pin him there instead, his mouth going to Fenris' neck this time, leaving behind a trail of nips and kisses that drove the elf _mad_ and almost made him forget about the man's hands at his hips, pulling away the last of his clothing. Fenris hissed and gasped and _jerked_ suddenly at where Sparrow's fingers went next--

_\--he had perfect fingers, strong and clever and **rough** in the most delicious way imaginable--_

   --before a quiet moan, vulnerable and aching, escaped from his throat. Sparrow let out a harsh breath at that quiet noise that made Fenris _tremble_. It was too much for the elf; Sparrow's scent and heat and presence and the things he _did_ to him were all _far_ too much for his mind to take, and he _loved_ it.

   Sparrow was eager to make Fenris moan, but he went so slowly about it Fenris was _certain_ he would lose his mind before the night was over--and every time he thought he couldn't take a second more of this teasing, Sparrow would touch him or kiss him or _something_ and he could convince himself to wait _just_ a moment longer, just to see what was next--

   Sparrow pulled back finally, ignoring Fenris' hoarse, harsh noise of protest. The elf was so hard he _ached_ , and there was no _way_ Sparrow was going to get away with--

   --finishing undressing himself. Fenris swallowed, suddenly choked, before he moved. He nipped at the human's throat, his fingers ghosting down Sparrow's chest when he pinned him down to the bed, and without trying to stop himself Fenris was eagerly exploring every plane and dip and curve of the man with his gaze, his fingers, his lips. He'd never been able to get enough of Sparrow, never been able to truly satisfy his desire to _touch_ him, not in the few times they'd been together. He tried not to be too eager now-- _they didn't have to stop now, didn't have to pretend nothing had happened between them tomorrow_ \--and find out all his secrets too soon, but it was so hard, _too hard_ , not to.

   Sparrow stiffened suddenly, making a quiet little sound in his throat, and Fenris felt like he'd been electrified.

   He looked up, panting softly, and repeated what he'd just done, trying to coax the sound out of him again. Sparrow complied, squirming a little in place; he was flushed and gasping, his expression wanton and desperate, the very picture of desire. Fenris was certain he couldn't have been more beautiful, until the elf pressed a finger into him and Sparrow tipped his head back, moaning softly and shifting his hips forward.

   Fenris swallowed and licked his lips, but he didn't say anything as he prepared him. He still remembered everything Sparrow liked, and it wasn't long before the Champion was moaning and writhing for him like he was paid to do it. They hadn't spoken yet--they hadn't needed to--but finally, Sparrow hissed, his voice desperate, " _Fenris_ \--"

   Fenris swallowed again, his throat dry, a little thrill coursing through him at the way Sparrow said his name. He loved it: loved the shrill _ache_ in his tone, the way Sparrow practically _begged_ \--

_Don't be ridiculous. I only beg in the bedroom, Isabela, and only if I feel like it._

   Fenris let out a little breath, then leaned forward some, whispering, his voice husky and dark to his own ears, "Beg me."

   Sparrow's golden hawk-eyes flickered open, flicking up to meet Fenris' own.

   "Beg me, Hawke." Fenris pulled back from him a little, trying to _breathe._ "Beg for it, and if I think you mean it..."

   Sparrow licked his lips, slow and sensual, shifting to slide back a little. He let out a little breath, and Fenris thought he was going to refuse, but then he let his fingertips trail down the muscled expanse of his stomach, across his thighs. He tilted his head back, eyes dark, and pulled his thighs apart, baring himself for Fenris.

   "Please, Fenris," He whispered simply, his voice low and deliciously straining as he let his fingers drift.

   Fenris made a soft noise, letting out a harsh breath through his nose. "Please what, Hawke?"

   "Take me," was his whispered response, low and dark and rough and intensely _pleading._ Sparrow shivered and arched his back when his fingers slid up and over himself, almost on their own, and Fenris briefly forgot how to _think._

   "I need you, Fenris." He shuddered and arched his back again, letting out a breath at his own teasing. "I've always..." Another breath, a soft whimper this time. "...needed you."

   And that was all it took for Fenris to break. He moved to kiss Sparrow, fierce and demanding, loving the way Sparrow moaned at just a kiss. He took hold of Sparrow's hips, adjusting them before he pushed into him.

   Sparrow stiffened, back arching with a harsh little cry that drowned out Fenris' hiss of pleasure. He'd never forgotten how Sparrow felt around him, but he couldn't remember if it had ever been this _good_ , if Sparrow had _always_ been so hot and slick and tight and _perfect_ \--

   The Champion took hold of a handful of Fenris' hair, pulling him into a desperate kiss and shifting his hips in a deliciously encouraging way that made all coherent thought completely disappear from the elf's mind.

   Their lovemaking was at first harsh and desperate, both of them too eager to make up for years spent _wanting_. Sparrow begged and pleaded and reminded Fenris of every little thing that drove him mad about the man--the way he cried out and bucked when he was touched just right and the look in his eyes when he was close and how when he came, with Fenris' name on his lips, it was the most beautiful thing the elf had ever heard in his life.

   Eventually, though, it had gone from desperate to tender, neither of them quite sure that they'd made up for all those years but both of them willing to linger more now. And that was when Sparrow had discovered Fenris had a soft spot just under his collarbone that made him tremble and gasp, that he didn't like having his scars touched but didn't mind having them licked, that he liked having his ears stroked and rubbed while his mouth was was too occupied to kiss, that most of the time he didn't say anything, but sometimes, when it was especially good, he would forget himself and gasp Sparrow's name when he climaxed--not his last name but his first, his voice trembling and high and vulnerable.

   And finally, when the first pale rays of dawn started spilling into the room from Fenris' window, they had finally decided enough was enough for tonight and long since been dozing together, for once _satisfied_ in all the years they'd known one another. Fenris raised his head, blinking sleepily at the light spilling across his floor. Sparrow made a questioning noise--he'd been stroking the elf's hair, half in and half out of sleep--before realizing what had roused him.

   "Mm." He muffled a yawn. "It's getting early, apparently..." He chuckled, soft and exhausted. "Suppose we should probably sleep at some point."

   Fenris answered with a soft laugh of his own, relaxing with a languid, satisfied smile. It felt a little odd to smile, but he thought he liked it. "You have a point, Hawke."

   Sparrow stretched, then sighed happily. He reached out, brushing a finger over Fenris' cheek--the elf closed his eyes, savoring the brief caress--before closing his eyes and murmuring, "Good morning, Fenris."

   Fenris' eyes flickered open. He paused, dissatisfied with the arrangement.

   A moment later, he shifted, sliding over to tuck himself into Sparrow's arms. The man blinked at him in surprise--Fenris had never liked being touched, he hadn't expected him to want to cuddle.

   But the elf didn't try to explain; all he said, his voice soft and drowsy, was:

   "Good morning, Sparrow." 

* * *

 

   Fenris woke first, later that day, and at first he panicked.

   He wasn't used to being so _crowded_ \--the moment his mind caught up with him, though, he realized why things were different. It was Sparrow's scent that calmed him; he recognized his scent, and if _Sparrow_ was the person crowding his personal space, then at least Fenris could deal with the situation.

   He looked up, blinking groggily. Sparrow hadn't woken when Fenris started; but then, Fenris had heard that he usually slept with Maric, and he supposed Sparrow must be used to the dog's kicking. He looked back down, staring at nothing in particular while he tried to decide what he was supposed to be doing.

   He'd only ever woken like this once before. The very first time. If it hadn't been for the dreams...Fenris frowned, disappointed that there was very little good about his memories of waking up in Sparrow's arms.

   A moment later, he blinked, looking up again. Sparrow made a quiet sound and shifted a little, nuzzling into his hair and letting out a breath.

   Slowly, he remembered. Last night. Sparrow had come to check on him, and...

_"Hawke, we...never talked about what happened three years ago..."_

_"...you didn't want to talk about it."_

_"Hawke, I...I know. I..."_

   "I was a fool," Fenris whispered, closing his eyes and burying his face against Sparrow's chest. He let out a breath, then smiled slowly. He wasn't sure what would happen when Sparrow woke, but for now...he pressed a soft kiss to Sparrow's chest.

   For now, it didn't matter.

   He wasn't certain how long he'd been dozing when Sparrow finally shifted and made a quiet, content sound. Fenris stiffened minutely, uncertain if he should pull away now. Before he could decide, Sparrow shifted and he felt something--Sparrow's hand, he thought--bump into the back of his head. Sparrow made a questioning noise, his eyes flickering open.

   He started a little, blinking at Fenris. Then, slowly, he relaxed, letting out a soft breath and _smiling_ , lazy and so utterly _happy_ it shouldn't be possible.

   As if everything was, for once, right in his world.

   "Mm." Sparrow brushed a finger along Fenris' jaw. "If only I could begin every morning waking up to such a beautiful man..."

   "It's mid-afternoon, Hawke." Fenris tried to ignore the way he thought he was flushing-- _Sparrow thought he was beautiful?_ \--and looked down, avoiding Sparrow's eyes.

   He couldn't help but wonder, though, how often Sparrow had _wanted_ to wake to him in his bed. _Had_ he wanted to? He'd basically said as much, but maybe he hadn't meant--

   Sparrow chuckled softly, then shifted, his lips pressing against Fenris' forehead softly. "Fine, mid-afternoon. Doesn't change the sentiment, though." He sighed softly. "Instead, I get the dog." He made an annoyed sound. "I like you better."

   Fenris looked up. "Good." He paused for a moment, uncertain, then kissed Sparrow, sudden and soft and more uncertain than he meant. He swallowed, unexpectedly light-headed-- _he was lying in bed, naked, with the man, and a little peck on the lips made him light-headed and stupid?_ \--then whispered against his lips, "I like you too."

   Sparrow grinned. "Good." He shifted, pulling away, and Fenris found that he didn't _like_ the distance between them now, even though he'd always preferred it when people _didn't_ touch him. He wondered what was _wrong_ with him.

   "I suppose I should locate my sister at some point before she comes barging in here," Sparrow mused as he sat up. Fenris took a moment to realize what he'd said, distracted by the way the room's shadows played across Sparrow's body. He was so... _everything_. How had he managed to stay away from the man for as long as he did?

   Well, he knew why. Sparrow didn't _generally_ lounge around naked in front of him. If he had...

   "...I suppose." Fenris agreed quietly, trying not to sound disappointed-- _he didn't **want** Sparrow to leave, not just yet_ \--and suspecting he'd failed.

   Sparrow looked down at him, quirking an eyebrow. He reached out, flicking Fenris' nose lightly. "You didn't let me finish."

   Fenris just blinked, so startled by the unexpected action that he wasn't certain how to answer.

   "I _should_ locate my sister. It would be the proper brotherly thing to do." Sparrow moved, and the next thing Fenris knew the man had straddled his hips, pinning his wrists to the bed. Fenris flushed again, starting to say--something, _anything_ \--but before he could Sparrow had leaned down to nip, playful and soft, at his earlobe, before whispering, his voice low and mischievous and husking just a little in a way that made Fenris _tingle_ , "But I don't feel like being a proper brother right now."

   Fenris let out a harsh breath. He was aware that he was flushing again, with Sparrow's voice in his ear and his body pressed so _snugly_ against his hips. Dimly, he thought that they fit together well. As if they were _supposed_ to. Sparrow shifted a little, to get comfortable, and it sent a little thrill through Fenris.

   He swallowed, then answered, his voice low and sounding more aroused than he meant it to, "And what _do_ you feel like being, Hawke?"

   Sparrow pulled back some so Fenris could see his smile.

   "Yours."

 


End file.
